


Pé na Tábua

by Nefaria_Black



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Party, F/M, First Meetings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 05:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16866679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefaria_Black/pseuds/Nefaria_Black
Summary: Bellatrix wants more from life and she has but one chance to get what she desires. She is not wasting it, so she must make an impression tonight.





	Pé na Tábua

If Bellatrix were to be completely honest, she wasn’t really looking forward to the Christmas Ball at Malfoy Manor. It was a traditional gathering for British pure-blood society, usually featuring French relatives of one family or another, but it wasn’t really enjoyable for her. It was the sort of event that led to tacit bragging and unspoken competition, while the contestants measured each others up, clad in high wizarding fashion and making use of absolutely flawless manners. It was undoubtedly ‘the’ ball of the season, where all and any important acquaintances were made, and more marriages had been settled on during the party than not. Having just turned seventeen the past September, and being the eldest of the Black girls, Bellatrix was to attend looking not simply stunning, but impeccable, as the prime prize that her blood and her surname had turned her into the day that she was born.

She knew her parents had set their sights on Rodolphus Lestrange, the eldest of the Lestrange brothers, and that his parents had long set their eyes on her. Rodolphus was a year ahead of her at Hogwarts, and they got along well enough to have a peaceful relationship, maybe even an affectionate one over the years. The problem was Bella’s thirst for more. Her thirst for power, her love of chaos, the way her body seemed to crave the shadows, the way her mind sung when enveloped in darkness.

She wanted much more from life than merely becoming Bellatrix Lestrange after she graduated. She wanted to do more beyond fulfilling her duty as a wife and providing an heir and a spare for the House of Lestrange. She wanted the world to see her, to know her, not her surname. Bella wanted to accomplish something greater than life, to be involved in a larger cause. She wanted to hone her magic to its fullest potential, to its darkest possibilities. She had long known of the chained beast that lurked at the bottom of her heart, clawing at the back of her mind; she only needed the means to release it.

“Bella, why are you staring at the mirror holding the dress instead of getting dressed? Are you trying to make Mother upset?” Andromeda, looking lovely in a dark blue dress, was carelessly leaning on the doorjamb, arms crossed, and a smirk to her face.

“I don’t have to try, Andy, Mother is upset with at least one of us at any given time,” she replied, smiling at her sister’s reflection, “I’m just making sure that we’ll be fashionably late.” She walked away from the mirror then, placing the dress over the back of a chair, and picked up her crooked wand from her vanity, swooshing it through the air and watching her hair be braided and styled in a half-up, half-down hairdo, secure by a silver hairpin. Her black curls had always been wild, and although wearing her hair loose and down to the ball would not be proper, she could get away with this, she could keep a certain wildness about her, with half of her hair waving free behind her.

“Why are you standing there Andy? Find Cissy for me, will you?”

“What do you want Cissy for? Unless you want to have obnoxiously perfect ringlets of hair, because she has exactly a dozen of them, Cissy is best left in her room, twirling in her periwinkle dress, daydreaming of Lucius.”

Bellatrix laughed openly at her sister’s jest, shaking her head, bending down to do the straps of her dancing shoes. Andy pushed herself off the doorjamb and walked inside; taking a seat on her bed and caressing the jet black silk of the gown Bellatrix would be wearing.

“Cissy is terribly jealous of you, you know? Because you get to wear a ‘grown-up dress’”, she mocked their little sister’s voice, moving her head from one side to the other, shaking her slightly less kinky, and fairly lighter, curls, “and to wear proper jewellery.”

“So are you, Andy, don’t think I can’t see you there, touching my dress and eyeing the choker on my neck,” she stuck her tongue out, then pouted her lips to make her red lipstick more evident, since Andromeda wasn’t allowed that either, “now get your bottom off my bed and find Cissy. She is all sweet and innocent looking and people forget that she’s not that much of a child anymore, which means she hears things she’s not supposed to. Between that and Lucius, she probably knows exactly who’s going to be at the ball.”

“Why do you care? We’re being showcased like cattle at an auction, anyway,” Andromeda said, rolling her eyes, “what does it matter?”

Bellatrix didn’t answer her, simply nodded towards the door, telling Andromeda to go and find Narcissa. It did matter, for some reason. For some reason, Bellatrix felt like something important was about to happen. She put on her black dress, turning around in front of the mirror, admiring the way in which the silk clung to her shape. She was best described as willowy, being on the taller side, with slender limbs, and curves to her body, though she could not be described as voluptuous. She was pretty, she knew, in a classical way; bearing the chiselled features of the Blacks but the heavy lidded eyes of the Rosiers, her wide grey eyes capturing everyone’s attention with the intensity of her gaze.

“Bella? May I come in?”

“You don’t have to be like that with us, Cissy,” Andromeda’s reply sounded behind her, “just get inside.”

Bellatrix turned to face the door and see her sisters walk towards her. Narcissa looked exactly like Andromeda had described, the picture of perfection at only thirteen. She was Druella’s favourite daughter, but she was not resented for it. The girls played on it often; it was always Narcissa that asked for things for the three of them.

“Andy said you wanted to talk to me,” Narcissa said, looking confused, “what’s going on?”

“What have you heard about the ball, Cissy? Do you know who is going to be there?”

“Everyone that’s anyone, as usual, and a couple of new faces from the Ministry, Daddy said.”

“Half-bloods,” Bellatrix scoffed, scorn dripping from her lips, “to be introduced to our circle…”

“Daddy said something about a Lord, as well, but he was talking to Mr. Malfoy and I was saying goodbye to Lucius, so I didn’t hear everything.”

“There are no lords amongst us, Cissy,” her middle sister was quick to correct her, “you must have misheard them.”

“She didn’t, Andy. It must be Lord Voldemort they were talking about.”

“You mean Tom Riddle, Bella, and he is no lord. He’s a dangerous man, with dangerous ideas-”

“He is Lord Voldemort, and his ideas are right,” she cut in, harshly.

She retreated to her own mind at that, ignoring her sisters. Bellatrix had heard about Lord Voldemort, plenty actually. His name came up very often among Slytherin students, and among pure-blood students of other houses as well. Rodolphus spoke about him and his movement all the time; he wanted to join it after Hogwarts. Bellatrix liked him the most when she saw the unabashed devotion in his eyes, when he stood for what he believed and challenged the Prewetts and the Weasleys to prove him wrong in duel. Even here, at home, her parents talked of him regularly, though her father refused to introduce her. He had a cause, he was starting a movement, and he was looking for people willing to join him. In that moment, Bellatrix learnt what it was that she had been anticipating. This was her chance. Tonight, she would take charge of her own life and turn it into what she wanted it to be.

She would find a way to be introduced to Lord Voldemort. She couldn’t quite think of him as Tom Riddle, it didn’t seem right, somehow. She knew Daddy had gone to school with him, although they hadn’t been in the same year.

“Bella! Come down, we’re leaving!”

Bellatrix blinked several times at the sound of her mother’s voice, shaking her reverie off her mind. She hastily put on her evening gloves, using her wand to help with the long sleeves, and made her way downstairs, where a house-elf waited with her black woollen cloak.

Cygnus gave her an approving look, and her mother even smiled a little. Bellatrix could already picture the glares that would be exchanged between Mother and Aunt Walburga. Her aunt had two boys while her mother had only produced girls, but Sirius and Regulus were raucous creatures that hardly ever behaved. Even at their age, the Black girls had always been beyond reproach at any social gathering. Though Bellatrix had a different reputation at Hogwarts.

“Girls, it’s cold outside, make sure to grab a scarf,” Druella told them, gently pulling Narcissa’s golden ringlets from under the collar of her cloak, adjusting the silver barrette that held two ringlets from each side away from her face, to cascade over the rest. Her little sister went immediately for a blue scarf, to match her eyes, while Andromeda took the one closest to her, without real concern. Bellatrix took a moment to choose though. She could go with black, which was expected of her, emerald green, as any other Slytherin, or red. In the end, she went with the blood red scarf. It was brazen, and her mother’s eyebrows didn’t fail to let her know, but she felt brazen tonight.

She had one chance. One fleeting moment to turn her life into something more, and she would seize it.

o.oOo.o

The Christmas Ball was turning out to be as lavish as any year, though not very fun, just as expected. The Malfoys provided luxury all around in their receptions, but the event was too formal for the youth to enjoy. They had walked through the immaculate gardens, and seen the impossibly snobbish white peacocks strut their tails up high, and then past the large dark double doors that opened to the imposing entrance hall, where a house-elf levitated the cloaks the guests dropped to an Expanded wardrobe. They were then greeted by the hosts, Abraxas, Amarantha and their son Lucius, and left to mingle in the immense ballroom.

She had danced with a couple of wizards, including her father and Rodolphus, but she didn’t care much for dancing, so she had turned to talking. Now, Bellatrix was doing what could only be described as sulking by the beverages table, holding a flute of champagne in her hand, sipping slowly, still struggling with the bubbles that tried to emerge out of her nose every time she drank from her glass.

Her Aunt Walburga hadn’t been able to properly control her sons, but when Mother confronted her with her failure she was quick to aim for Bellatrix. She had earned a reputation as a stormy petrel at Hogwarts, often getting detention over hexing other students or talking back to teachers, including Dumbledore. Her parents had received plenty of notifications, but since she had always acted against people of lesser blood or blood traitors, or to justify such actions, she had been met with some leniency. Not tonight though. Word had transpired that she had been on the verge of being expelled over her misdeeds, and her Aunt had made sure everyone heard about it, which meant her mother was well beyond upset with her.

And her chance was quickly slipping through her fingers. So she decided to be brazen once more.

o.oOo.o

He let his eyes gaze through the room, assessing, noticing the presence of his followers, still not enough, and their wives and descendants as well.

Lord Voldemort, still Tom Riddle to quite a few people in the ballroom, was by himself. No woman was worthy of him, he would never escort one to events as these. He did not date, though he let them fawn over him and had privately flirted if there was something useful to be obtained thus. He had bedded women on occasion, in order to sate his basic instincts and low urges, but he seldom indulged. He bedded women for the same reason he did everything else: if there was an advantage to be obtained.

He was not blind to beauty though, and he did notice the proud pure-blood women currently raising the next generation of wizards and witches, soon to file in his ranks he knew. The daughters were present as well; a show for their future husbands and in-laws to choose from. Not allowed to pull their hair completely up, there were plenty of braids and half up-dos that left tresses of every colour loose down necks and shoulders, intricate hairpins, pretty flowers and an entire world of feminine graces that he was utterly foreign to. He still appreciated the efforts; no doubt some mothers had considered his single status and prospective future and wondered if their girls would do.

A movement of darkness captured his attention out of the corner of his eye. A veritable cascade of black shiny curls had just been pushed off a shoulder and left to drop and spread over a slender back. There was some sort of silver and jet ornament keeping the hair off the face of the witch, but he could not register it. The curls bounced for a moment, just above the perfect curve of a small back made to be caressed, an innuendo to the lower curve, equally perfect.

Tom Riddle snapped his brain back to rights, only to take in the details. The hair draped over a jet black silk dress that hugged the girl’s shape just so. Enough to reveal, but not flaunt it, just shy of propriety. The dark shimmering garment touched the floorboards at its lowest point. At its highest, it enveloped the witch’s shoulders, leaving her clavicles completely exposed, dropping to lay claim to long arms and then conceding to evening gloves. He saw no more of her, and yet he knew her to be an exceptional creature. Should there be an advantage to be gained, he would most definitely take her. Should there not be one, she was the sort of creature worthy of taking for his pleasure alone. Those curls looked just right to be tugged, and those curves seemed perfect for roaming with hungry hands.

He took charge of his thoughts once more, stopping his mind from fantasizing further. And just in time.

“Is everything to your liking, sir?” Abraxas was by his side, the servant making sure of the master’s contentment, accompanied by Cygnus Black.

“Yes, Abraxas, indeed. Quite a large gathering you’ve got here.”

“All the families are here, sir, the entire pure-blood society of Wizarding Britain,” added Cygnus, eager to be noticed, now as before, when they were all boys at Hogwarts,” we should be able to secure more loyalties tonight.”

“I can see that,” his voice was harsh, and he had planned to make Cygnus suffer one of chastising glares, but then _that_ creature turned to look at him, grinning. Her eyes did not shy from his; she merely blinked a couple of times in between sips of champagne.

 _Oh this one is something different_ , he thought, keeping his eyes on hers and taking a slow breath, almost as if sniffing the air, trying to catch the scent of her from across the room.

“Forgive my daughter, sir. The girl has been pestering me to make your acquaintance,” Cygnus was desperately trying to excuse the girl’s bold behaviour, “though I’ve made it quite clear to her, but she can be stubborn.”

He glared at the girl, who smirked in a mischievous way. She was being provocative, a tease, compelling her father to bend to her will. And Lord Voldemort liked it.

“What have you made clear, exactly?”

“That she is of no use to you. I’m sorry that I have no son to offer you, sir, and I am truly sorry for Bella’s behaviour.”

 _Bella… Bellatrix Black, the troublemaker they’ve been talking about_ , he figured. Another glare. Another smirk in return.

“Introduce her, Cygnus, I’ll decide if she’s of use.”

He wasn’t entirely aware of the words coming from his mouth, but his servant was. Swallowing and straightening his shoulders, Cygnus beckoned forward the defiant witch.

“My eldest daughter, Bellatrix,” he said when his daughter was before him, bowing her head respectfully, only to curtsy then.

“Hmm,” he nodded, approving the girl’s curtsy. It allowed him a look from above, and the daring girl seemed very aware of it, turning her wide grey eyes up. Her off-the-shoulder dress was perfectly proper, but low enough to hint at her cleavage in a bow.

“My lord, I am honoured.”

That caught him unaware. There was no fear in her eyes, no hesitation; the only thing there was the willingness to please him. This girl wanted something from him, and a lot more from life, it seemed. He searched her father’s mind as well, and found him worried for her.

There was an advantage to be obtained here, and quite a treat to indulge in. It would allow him a greater hold over the Blacks, the clear and natural born leaders of his pure-blood sycophants, and this was his chance at that advantage. He would take it, and something else with it.

o.oOo.o

She had been bold, and reckless, and she would be in a tremendous amount of trouble for this, but right now she was standing before Lord Voldemort and the entire world had vanished. Bellatrix was no longer aware of her father’s presence, or anyone else’s for that matter.

When she blinked out of her torpor, they were alone. He had dismissed the others.

“You were staring quite intently this way, Bellatrix…”

No Miss Black, no softness of manners. A demand cleverly disguised.

"I was looking for someone," she said, trying to hide the fact that she was sniffing the air, revelling in the scent of him, “I was looking for you, my lord.” Lord Voldemort seemed to like it when she said that, and she was determined to impress him. It was tonight or never.

He made small talk then, but he was assessing her. She often felt a little dizzy, and for that she presumed the rumours of his Legilimency to be true.

“I love this time of year,” she replied when he asked her about her Hogwarts break, “everyone comes together.” She was nearly gasping for air, her heart racing, threatening to jump out of her chest at any second.

“You didn’t strike me as the type that likes these Christmas gatherings.”

“I like the atmosphere, my lord, I like knowing what makes people tick,” she grinned at the glimmer of attention caught in his eyes, “and everyone’s too busy challenging each other to notice me learning. And then there’s all the gifts, sir, those are nice too.”

“Hmm, you have a very interesting mind, Bellatrix,” he chuckled, his voice low and solemn, “but I sense something pushing in it. Something about Christmas gifts, I think, care to share?”

“I shouldn’t,” she hesitated, even if only for a second. Her mind was a whirlwind of ideas, and she needed to find the right one. She had but once chance to do this.

“Just tell me… Bella, tell me.”

He had called her Bella when only those close to her did and they had just met, but it felt right. Bellatrix decided to take a leap of faith, then. She had met Lord Voldemort, the most powerful wizard of their age, now she would entrust him with herself and her life, completely, wholeheartedly. She would be known for herself and not her surname, she would be powerful, and he was her way to it.

“Well you see, my lord, I believe I have a present for you.”

“Oh, you do now, Bella? You have found something suitable when we’ve just met?” He asked her, with an amused smirk to the corner of his mouth. A dangerous smirk. A dark lure.

“I have, sir. Your Christmas present is me,” she answered in all seriousness, no smile to her lips, looking him straight in the eye, “have me, my Lord, use me for your advantage.” She licked her lower lip, and tried to swallow, but found her mouth absolutely dry. This was far too daring to be even remotely decent, but Bella didn’t want to be a nice girl, or a decent witch, only to become a prim and proper wife. She wanted this, she wanted a way to unleash the dark beast within her; she wanted to devote her life to something more, something beyond a husband and children. She wanted to be powerful, but mostly she wanted to serve Lord Voldemort.

She had one chance. And she had seized it.

**Author's Note:**

> So first things, first. A little clarification about the title of this fic: my first language is Portuguese, and the title is part of an expression most frequently used in Brazil, the full phrase being “Fé em Deus e pé na tábua”, made popular in the 40s or thereabout. A rough translation would be something like “in God we trust, put the pedal to the metal” with the little quirk that “pé na tábua” actually means, literally, “foot on the board”, as in, in very old cars (1930s and before) the bottom was made of wood, hence the boards, and to go faster you pressed the pedal, just like nowadays, putting your foot to them. Since one of the prompts to this fic was “leap of faith” and I decided to have Bella do something on the reckless side, it popped into my head and it felt so right that I couldn’t change it. Also, if you want to know what it sounds like, copy the phrase to google translate (I checked, it’s a robot, but it sounds right).
> 
> Prompts and Challenges:  
> Assignment 10 Health and Fitness Task #1 - Jolly Jacks: Write about someone reaching for the stars or running away from something.  
> Advent Calendar – Day 2 Cross-Gen  
> December Writing Club – Character Appreciation 26. [Character] Bellatrix Lestrange (Bonus for using Tom Riddle); Disney Challenge Songs 4. Belle - Write about someone who wants more from life; Cookie’s Cooking Corner – 9. Quality Street: Alt - Write about doing something because it's traditional, rather than enjoyable; Book Club The Man Jack: (character) Lord Voldemort, (action) sniffing the air, (dialogue) "I was looking for someone."; Showtime 22. Over the Moon: (phrase) leap of faith; Amber’s Attic Songs 3. "Fuck Tha Police" by N.W.A.: Write about having issues with someone in authority. (5 point bonus); Count your Buttons – Objects 2. Scarf, Dialogues 2. “I love this time of year.”, Words 5. Present; Em’s Emporium 8. (event) Ball/Party; Angel’s Arcade 10. Matt Miller: (colour) jet black, (plot point) trying to impress someone, (action) grinning; Lo’s Lowdown Character 6. Scanlan: use an innuendo in your fic.  
> Winter Funfair – Eastern: The Polar Express Golden Ticket: write about someone receiving a golden opportunity to do something; Southern: The Nice List 4. Ami - Write your OTP; Northern: Building a Snowman Buttons: Dialogue “I shouldn’t”// “Just tell me…”.  
> 365 Prompts Challenge: 164. Item – Wand  
> Winter Bucket List – 10. (drink) champagne  
> Chocolate Frogs 10. (Gold): Tom Marvolo Riddle: Write about Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort.


End file.
